


One Lucky Pull

by OtroAmigo



Series: All Bets are Off [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Dom/sub Undertones, I swear, Like fluff bunnies, M/M, Non-Serum Steve Rogers/Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes | Shrinkyclinks, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Rough Sex, Sex Toys, Size Kink, Smut, tiny bits of fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-20
Updated: 2016-09-20
Packaged: 2018-07-16 03:59:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7251088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OtroAmigo/pseuds/OtroAmigo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky is having a bad night, but this early morning train ride might just change that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Uhhh....This is that Bucky POV y'all wanted, enjoy. Also thanks to hearteyesmonroe for her editing and just putting up with my general fuckery

   

Bucky had just had the worst night. He’d struck out at just about every bar he’d went to. And when he finally had found someone that hadn’t completely ruined the mood by opening their mouth, it was just his luck that he had ended up finding the guy a cab home instead of taking him there himself. Bucky was all down for lowered inhibitions, buy this guy had been tall, cut, and about three drinks too far gone for Bucky to have felt entirely comfortable having sex with him. So Bucky had spent the last four or so hours until sunrise in a rinky dink diner not far from Brooklyn, and contemplated just how his life had gone so wrong. Okay, so he was being a bit extreme, his life wasn’t wrong.

 

But his sex life sure was.

 

He hadn’t had a good pull in almost a year. He could excuse the first three months, he had been going through a bad breakup, okay? But the next eight? Even his luck wasn’t that bad. He just...couldn’t find anyone that really fit, and yeah, maybe he was being a bit picky for one night stands. But, if he wasn’t feeling it, he wasn’t about to start putting out sub-par sex. He had a reputation to maintain, alright?

He couldn’t remember the last erection he’d gotten that wasn’t from his go to porn stash.

A few stops from the diner and the waitress that had been eyeing him with equal parts pity and wariness, he decided to just get on the train. He was being dramatic, thinking a walk all the way to Manhattan would solve his little...okay, not that kind of little, problem.

 

He had not expected a train ride to solve his problem, but the universe worked in mysterious ways. As soon as the doors had closed, he looked up directly into cornflower blue eyes. Eyes that widened when they met his, pupils blowing out and swallowing all that blue. The guy they belonged to looked nervous. Twitchy, almost. He looked back down at the book in his hands quickly, and a brilliant red color bloomed on his cheeks.

Bucky smirked to himself.  _ This might actually be an interesting commute home. _

 

So of course, he chose to seat himself right next to the cute little blonde. Bucky could be accused of being many things, but shy wasn’t really one of them. So he spread out, knee pressing into the little thing beside him, testing the waters.The blonde stopped his nervously tapping knee at the contact, but didn’t pull it away. Bucky took that as a win.

 

Bucky knew he could have one of two effects on people. They either crossed the street when they saw him, thinking he was bad news. Or they sought him out because everyone loves a bad boy, and he at least looked the part in a dirty grunge sort of way. Bucky had just grown accustomed to the least amount of personal maintenance possible in the army. He showered, but he didn’t see any reason to throw away a perfectly good pair of jean for a few holes. Maybe that wasn’t the army talking. Maybe it was growing up dirt poor, but in the end it didn’t really matter. He was doing alright now, as an aircraft mechanic in the private sector. It didn’t pay enough to live extravagantly, but it paid enough. 

 

The blonde next to him seemed to be straddling the fence between outright lust and disgust. Bucky could work with that. He heard the guy take a deep breath, and saw his throat bob with the effort to hold something in. Interesting.

 

He spied something on the floor when he slid his eyes back from observing the actions of little hipster guy. It was purple. It tickled something in the back of his mind. He had seen something like it before, he swore. He reached down to pick it up, being careful not to jostle the twitchy man next to him. Rubbing his thumb over the little switch, he tried to remember where he knew this thing from. This was going to bug him.

 

_ It looks so familiar, _ he thought, continuing to pass his thumb over the button.

 

There was a sharp, barely audible gasp from the itty bitty thing next to him. And he felt all 90 or so pounds of the guy twitch through the little connection they shared at their knees. See? Twitchy little thing. And then it dawned on him. It was...holy shit. It was the remote to a vibrator. Like a lightning bolt, it hit him where he knew it from. One of his exes had liked to bring toys into their bedroom. At first, it had made him feel a bit inadequate. Was he doing something wrong? Was he...bad at sex?

 

But then he had just gotten really good at using toys with his bed partners. And when his relationship had eventually exploded all over the place, his ex had dropped a bit of a bombshell. There had to be toys in the bedroom because of, and he quotes, “your stupid monster fucking cock”.

 

Huh.

 

He had honestly never gotten that complaint before, but in that moment, so many things about his past relationships suddenly made sense. And it also explained his current situation. The dry spell. He had of course tried to make it matter as little as possible. Bucky didn’t need to stick his dick in something to get off. It just helped. But he swears he’s become a more attentive partner to make up for the fact that some of his hook-ups just can’t take something so big. It’s fine with him. It’s just...really hard to find a cute little twink of a size queen these days.

 

Maybe his luck was about to turn. Besides, Lady Luck owed him one. Hell, she owed him several, but who’s counting?

 

By the time the little thing had drug his eyes up Bucky’s body, Bucky was already staring back. He knew the power of his little suggestive smirk. It could tempt saints. He’d worked hard on it.

 

While maintaining that oh so charged eye contact, Bucky pushed his thumb down again. The man’s pupils swallowed even more of those brilliant blue irises. He honestly didn’t think this guy could blush any harder, but he was never so glad to have been wrong as he was right now. He watched the book make its way down to cover the lap next to him and widened his smirk.

 

This was going to be fun. Spreading his knees wide, Bucky settled deeper into the bench. He slid his new favorite toy into his jacket pocket, still clasped tightly in his fist. The grin on his face was permanent and getting more smug with every level he pushed the toy up to. He let his eyes slide closed, just listening to the hitched breathing beside him and feeling every twitch the man made travel up his thigh. He waited. He had learned early that sometimes, with the right tool, the anticipation could be almost as good as the follow through.

 

Although he had to admit, he hadn’t been aware that a little exhibitionism was his thing. He wouldn’t enjoy being in this guys shoes, but this was definitely up there on the list of hottest things he’d ever done. And he’d done some pretty hot things. He was hoping this little hipster was about to be one of them. Yeah, hipster. C’mon, the guy was wearing square framed glasses, a tan blazer, fucking corduroy pants, and doc martins. Bucky would bet his left arm every device in that little leather satchel had an apple on it too.

 

Just as he was about to chuckle at that thought, the train doors parted to boarding passengers. He hadn’t even noticed the train slow down. It was the perfect time for a little fun to keep his mind from wandering again. He pressed his thumb down on the button in his pocket once more, watching the blonde tense beside him and look a bit frantically at all the people now on the train. He was sweating, wiping his hands on his pants and leaving little damp spots on the thighs of them. And jostling the book in his lap a bit with each nervous wipe.

 

Bucky hoped it fell.

 

Bucky pressed the button again, just to see if it would.

 

It didn’t, but without leaving enough time to get disappointed, Bucky saw another opportunity. In the form an old lady. So he was going to hell, sue him. He watched blue eyes dart from the little old woman, to the book in his lap, to Bucky, and back to the woman.

 

Holy hell. Was this guy for fucking real? Was he seriously considering standing up to give this woman his seat, all the while covering his erection with a book and clenching around the vibrator in his ass? There was no way he was that noble. Nope. He was just that much of an exhibitionist, Bucky decided. Who else boards the train this early in this kind of setup? Bucky would bet this wasn’t even the first time this guy had done this. Bucky probably wasn’t even his first mark.

At that thought, Bucky was suddenly, irrationally, jealous.  The thought of some other guy picking up the little remote in his pocket didn’t sit well with him for some reason. He imagined some pervy old man in a suit on his way to work, answering some sort of fucked up craigslist ad. The visual almost soured the whole scenario for Bucky. Almost. This was a truly terrifying dry spell. It could make a man do things he wouldn’t normally do.

 

Like pick up a sex toy on a train.

 

Decided, he grinned at the poor man next to him, a challenge in his eyes, and thumbed the button once more.

 

This man was a dream. He seemed to read Bucky like an open book. And responded oh so sweetly to the small command in Bucky’s stare, standing upright. Book still clasped for dear life, he motioned the little woman over to take his seat. He could see the shame etched on his face as he stood there. He was either an incredible tiny actor, or this really wasn’t a scenario he was used to. Bucky felt a bit of tension seep out of him at that. He could work with spontaneous train toys. He was less comfortable with practiced craigslist kink fulfillment. He pressed the button again, feeling the need to reward the man for not being what Bucky feared he might be.

 

Bucky was paying attention this time as the train glided to a halt at his stop.  _ Now or never _ he thought.

 

He made sure to make his exit as obvious as possible to the blushing man, the order blatant, that he was to follow. Bucky hoped he did.

 

Christ, the kid barely came up to his fucking nipples.  _ Jesus, Barnes, put that thought away, the guy’s not gonna suck on your fucking nipples until you come. He’s probably not even gonna follow you off the train. Get it together, for fucks sake. _

 

With that thought, he walked steadily through the train doors and onto the station platform. He found a small stretch of concrete wall to hold up and waited to see if his new favorite toy would follow him out the doors.  _ And the blonde too.. _ .He thought.

Just as he was about to call it, one last passenger squeaked through the closing doors. He was bright red and clutching the book in his hands like a lifeline, but there he was, staring back at Bucky with wide eyes. He hadn’t been sure until that moment that he knew where this whole thing was going, oh but he knew now. That one small gaze was full of such hesitant anticipation and hunger, sweeping the station before meeting Bucky’s. This guy must want it desperately if he was following Bucky of all people off a morning train without so much as a name to go on.

But Bucky wasn't the type to look a gift horse in the mouth, so he turned gracefully and bounded up the stairs, excitement hurrying his steps. When he reached the street, he turned to look behind him, but didn’t see a shock of blonde hair following. Had he misread the guy? Maybe this was just his stop too. And then Bucky almost slapped his forehead at his own stupidity. The guy was sporting an erection, with a toy  _ inside _ of him, and carrying a book to hide it all. Not to mention his much shorter legs...no, he wasn’t ditching Bucky, he just couldn’t take the stairs with quite the same zeal as Bucky had.

 

_ Idiot. Think, Barnes, think. _

 

He waited until he saw a hint of blonde hair before starting down the sidewalk at a much more sedate pace. It wasn’t far to his apartment building, but the straight up anticipation was killing him. He took a few deep breaths of crisp New York morning air to calm himself down before he really did fuck everything up. And not in a good way…

Okay, he had the smallest, most dainty little blonde twink following him to his apartment without saying a word. Excellent. This guy seemed all too eager to follow every little whim Bucky could convey with his eyes. That meant...he liked taking orders? Bucky could give orders, he was really very good at giving orders. He seemed to like Bucky’s particular kind of grunge sex appeal. Good, maybe he wouldn’t be too offended at Bucky’s living...arrangements. Maybe he liked slumming it a little, Bucky wasn’t about to judge the guys taste. He didn’t have enough to go on to know how the guy liked it, but Bucky was gonna take a bit of a wild guess with the way he had been eyeing all 200 and some pounds of him and say blondie might like it a little bit rough. Bucky was more than okay with that.

 

But of one thing he was certain. He wasn’t about to try and fuck the guy. One, there was no way Bucky was  _ that  _ lucky, to pull a twink with a kink for big cock that could  _ actually _ take him, not just talk about it. He had made that horrible mistake only once, and once was enough. Tears of pain were not actually Bucky’s thing, and he knew that now for a fact. Two, he didn’t want to break the poor thing, and he wasn’t about to try. He’d just get them both off, fucking spectacularly, and that would be that.

 

He just about had it all pulled together when he approached his apartment door, punching in the code and then holding the door. What? His mother had raised a deviant, but at least a deviant with manners. Bucky watched as he made his way up the stairs, holding his shoulders straight and trying not to let his gait betray him. Cute. He followed him inside and then waited a little, just to see him struggle. Was he going to push the call button? It would be a bold move from what he’s seen so far. He stepped closer to that delectably small frame, a hairsbreadth from pressing against him. Reaching his hand out to press the button himself, he made sure to brush his arm just close enough to touch. 

Bucky heard the small breath the man caught at the contact and couldn’t help the lecherous grin he sported behind his back. This kid was fucking gone. And it was making him fucking lose it too. As the doors opened he let his hand span the entirety of the lower back in front of him and pushed, steadily guiding him forward. He obeyed without hesitation, moving until he was flat against the elevator wall, book forgotten and palms splayed out. Bucky hadn’t really meant to push him that far, to pin him against a wall with just one hand, but as soon as he had started, he couldn’t stop. There was no resistance at all in the body he was moving, and that weird bit of power went straight to his head. And the guy didn’t seem to mind, in fact, it seemed pretty obvious that he enjoyed being pushed around just as much as Bucky enjoyed pushing him around.

 

Before he even knew what he was doing, he had followed his hand with his whole body, pressing the man before him into the wall in front of him with just a bit of force. He ran his hand down, from dainty ribs he could count between his finger to soft, tight waist to sharp hip bone. And clutched it, digging his thumb into the tiny dimple he could feel in the guy's lower back and pressing his fingertips into his soft stomach. God, he could probably wrap his hands around this guys whole waist without even trying, he was tiny. Fuck was that Bucky’s thing. He ground his erection into his back at the thought. Then he heard the fucking whimper this guy just made and all but growled back at him, thrusting him even harder into the wall. In that motion he could feel blondie’s knees give, leaving all his weight in Bucky’s hand clutch at his hip. Huh, he thought he’d be heavier, but he could easily hold this guy up against this wall all day, until they both came in their pants. But Bucky wasn’t about to do that. This was going somewhere, he just had to get this guy onto a bed.

He felt the elevator jerk to a stop, doors creaking open behind him. He moved his left hand to the back of the thin neck in front of him, instinctually.

_ You’ve got some fucked up instincts, Barnes,  _ he thought as he bodily moved the guy in his thrall towards the doors and down the hallway. He struggled for his feet for a moment before catching them and marching along with Bucky’s hands. This guy was just too much, this had to be a dream, but fuck if he was about to wake himself up. He stopped them in front of his apartment, with the wonky three and the unlocked door. Like he had anything worth stealing. Pushing the kid in front of him, he kicked the door closed behind him and paused. He didn’t like walking around his home with his shoes on. He had spent months steam cleaning and replacing linoleum just so he could walk around in his socks without worry. But he had a whole...dominant aggressive vibe going here and he really didn’t wanna kill it by taking his hands off this guy to remove his shoes. So he just toed them off, hoping he didn’t ruin the mood and continuing on like he hadn’t. Fake it till you make it, right?

Only a little further down a much narrower hallway, Bucky pushed him to his knees on the mattress in the middle of the room. He wasn’t even going to pause to worry about the state of his bed. If the guy was into hot stranger sex, he could deal with the fact the Bucky didn’t really like to own furniture. At least he had recently washed his sheets. He removed his hand wrapped around a dainty hip and gently slid it up to the middle of his back. And then he shoved that tiny little body down onto the mattress with a bit of force. Blondie caught himself on his outstretched arms and then gasped a tiny sweet little sound and shifted ever so slightly on his knees.

Bucky grinned wolfishly at that little movement, removing his hands to his pockets and finding the remote in them. He pushed the button again, and watched the poor boy in front of him wiggle and whine into his own arms. That just wouldn’t do. Bucky took one hand and put it onto the arched back before him and pressed, until the man's elbows gave way and his face was pressed deeply into the mattress. He felt the body below him rise with the deep breath it drug in and it made him want to feel it again and again, to drag this poor guy through so many deep inhalations he forgot how to breath at all. He used his other hand to try and grasp for the front of the corduroy pants, needing them off right now, just to see if the ass beneath them was everything he thought it might be. Bucky hadn’t yet seen him fully from any view but the back yet, and boy what a view it was too, but it also explained his wanton little grunt at feeling how absolutely drenched the front of those stupid pants were. This guy was fucking dripping hard and long enough to be wetting his pants through his underwear. Holy fucking shit. Bucky wasn’t usually much for the taste of precum, but something about this had his mouth watering.  _ Later, _ he promised himself. Bucky realized he had been all but fondling the guy through his damp pants while his mind wandered and immediately pulled himself back to focus. He pressed him a little harder into the mattress as he lost all patience with buttons and clasps and may have used a bit more force than he had meant to while ripping them open. Shit. He hoped they weren’t too expensive. He’d offer to replace them, if now weren’t the exact opposite of the right time. All thought of politely offering to buy this stranger new pants immediately departed when he registered quiet little gasping pleas.

“God, yes, please..don’t stop. Fuck fuck fuck yes oh. Please” he heard, barely whispered in such a sweet tone. How could Bucky refuse a request like that?

This guy didn’t particularly seem to care about his belongings, from books to pants, and from what Bucky could tell he actually liked when Bucky tore his things and manhandled him. Okay, Bucky was down for that. He’d try to be careful, knowing his almost brutish strength was probably enough to actually hurt the dainty little elf beneath him. God, the fucking mouth on this kid. He was still pleading, probably not even registering his own words at this point. Just to really cover all his bases, Bucky leaned forward, draping himself over the guy and putting his mouth just next to his ear. This had the wonderful small change in position with the effect of bringing his cock to nestle right between two tight little ass cheeks. He almost groaned at the sensation but held the sound back. Bucky had put so much effort into ignoring his own cock in past relationships that he almost forgot about how hard he had gotten, just from dominating this little twink. And he heard the needy whimper his cock coaxed out of the body under him. He chuckled at it, the sound deep and throaty near the neck he could almost put his lips against, if he just leaned a little further. He didn’t. It felt just a little too intimate for this kind of thing. Situation. Whatever the hell this was. But he had to be sure he was getting this right, because he could easily be reading all of this wrong. He didn’t think so, but he just had that kind of luck, and he wasn’t about to do anything this guy wasn’t clearly asking for. So he let one word slip out.

“Good?” He asked. Shit, when had he let his voice get that desperate? It was thick with arousal and dry from disuse.

He could immediately sense a shift in the small hips beneath his, the whole body sagging a little at the question, and almost rushed to pull away. He knew it, fuck. He had read everything wrong and forced some random guy into his apartment, like a jackass. And then he heard the smallest, weakest, most desperate little “yeah” he had ever heard in his life.

Okay. That was...he could go with yeah.

Hesitation removed, he needed this guy naked. Now. He fisted the pressed little blazer in front of him, yanking the guy up by it and wrinkling it all to hell. Something primal in him took pleasure in that. Jerking it down and off tiny arms savagely, he threw it off into some corner of his room. If he had his way, the guy wouldn’t be needing it for quite some time. His other hand busily worked on the tight pants he had already ruined, pushing them down and off in efficient movements. And then he went for the shirt. It had way too many buttons and he had already pretty much ruined everything else the guy was wearing, why stop now? He gripped the collar, and then jerked it hard, scattering its buttons across the mattress, a few of them finding the floor. Almost done. Who needs underwear? Not this guy, that's for sure. Grasping the elastic waistband that proudly declared itself “American Apparel”, he ripped straight through it and tore the briefs off with a zeal he really wasn’t aware he possessed. Sure, he had ruined some garments in his past exploits, but he had never quite ripped someone out of every piece of clothing they were wearing simply to satisfy the animal part of him that said he needed to.

Finally, he could see all of the body beneath him, uninhibited. Fuck, all smooth pale skin and dainty limbs, shaking either with effort or arousal, he wasn’t sure. And that ass, set up so cutely in front of him and just begging to be bitten, licked, grabbed, and fucked. Bucky wasn’t sure which he wanted to do first. His hands decided for him, stretching forward of their own accord and gripping those two perfectly round cheeks in front of him. He was lost, mesmerized. His thumbs separated those perky cheeks and the hole between them clenched under his gaze. Bucky felt his dick give an answering twitch.

_ Down boy,  _ he thought. The tiny rosey furl was so small he couldn’t even imagine fitting his dick into it.

He watched a little dribble of lube exit the tiny hole and he followed it with his thumb, pressing it back in. The rim stretched around the pad of his thumb, giving way almost instantly. Shit. He pulled his thumb out and pushed it back in again, slowly, just to watch that little hole beg for it again and again. Fucking hell. He shook himself out of the little trance this guys asshole had put him in. He’d just been sitting there, thumbing at it for a good two minutes. This guy have some sort of voodoo asshole? Bucky made up for his unwitting lapse of concentration by sinking two of his fingers into the soft, forgiving flesh. Fuck his ass was tight and giving all at once, clenching around his fingers. He felt the toy beneath the pads of his fingers and grinned. How could he have forgotten this little thing? Pressing it into the gland beneath it, he felt the man twitch and groan deeply at the pressure, gripping the sheets beneath him. Bucky just stared intently at the place where his fingers disappeared into the slick hole. He didn’t even want to blink, he didn’t want to miss a single moment of this.

But he was going to have to remove his hands if he was going to get his fucking dangling hair out of the way. For fucks sake. As he pulled his hands away, he heard a whine from near the top of the bed and looked up towards it in concern. Had he hurt him? But when he met watery blue eyes with his own, all he saw was raw hunger and wanton need. Oh. Bucky grinned back and reached up to comb his hands through his thick hair and pull in into a haphazard ponytail, securing it with a band from around his wrist. There was still lube on his fingers, but he’d definitely had worse things on his hands and in his hair, and he wasn’t about to let a bit of lube get the way of curiously hot stranger sex, He was still wearing his worn out jacket, and he went to remove it before remembering to check his pockets and pull out the purple remote. Shedding his coat, he contemplated pulling off the red henley beneath it too before tracing blue eyes full of anticipation back to his hand. Ah, he raised up the tiny remote a little, wiggling it teasingly and painting a suggestive look onto his face. While he was watching one hand, two fingers dove back into his ass with the other. They found the toy immediately and abused it. The blonde was begging incoherently now, pushing his hips back onto Bucky’s hand. His dick was still leaking copiously, dripping precum onto Bucky’s sheets with every hard thrust of his hips that met Bucky’s punishing fingers.

He chuckled at the litany of “more” he heard. He knew the guy meant fingers, but Bucky was still reasonably sure his count was accurate and that he had at least one more level to go on the small toy before it was maxed out. He clicked the button one last time. Then he threw the remote away from him, he had no more use for it now, and gripped one shapely little thigh. God, his hand could almost wrap around the whole thing.  _ Fucking dainty piece of ass you got here, Barnes… _

He pulled on the leg beneath his fingers, forcing the man to spread his knees wider in obedience and his back dipped further into the bed. The move rolled his hips up and pushed Bucky’s fingers in impossibly deeper, applying hard pressure to the toy on his prostate. Bucky heard the guy choke on his own spit at the sensation and swallowed his own in response. Fuck it. He pulled the toy out viciously and slung it across the room where it clattered against the wall and into a pile of dirty laundry that muffled it's still violent vibrations. And then he plunged three fingers back into the now empty ass in front of him with a little growl. He was absolutely going to wreck this guy if it killed him. Bucky thrust his fingers in harder, noting the attempts the guy made to meet his thrusts with his hips. Bucky made sure to meet each thrust with a harder one of his own, forcing tiny little gasps out of the man with each one.

He heard a pause in the gasps and looked up in time to lock eyes again. Fuck, this guy was practically gone on Bucky, and it was an intoxicating feeling, to have that effect on someone. He knew how to amplify it too… as much as he regretted it, he removed his hands from the guy for the second time that night and reached one over his head to grip the collar of his shirt. Bucky pulled it off in one swift, practiced move. He’d had to get pretty good at removing his shirt with one hand after an injury almost cost him his left, and it was still a habit. The groan the man released should have been illegal, all want and admiration. Bucky smirked. And then he threw his shirt away from him and listening to his tags clink down onto his chest. His hair was disheveled, some of his scars showing, and every inch of him glistening in sweat. It had been awhile since he had stopped feeling self conscious of his scars and he wasn’t about to start again now. Besides, it had only out and out caused someone to stop sex once, so he wasn’t too worried about it. Bucky put a hand on the hip in front of him to unbutton his pants and shove them down to his hips. He couldn’t bring himself to stand to get them off, so he settled for leaving them hanging over the tops of his thighs and below his ass.

When he heard a sharp squeak and saw the widened eyes before him, he remembered that he hadn’t put on underwear before going out last night. Right. This guy could see all of him now, including Bucky’s thick, long cock staring back at him. Shit. Bucky hesitated for only a moment before wrapping his own hand around his dick and releasing a little grunt at the feeling. He was farther gone than he had realized. Maybe he could convey that this was all he needed from the guy. He would stroke himself off if he could just watch his fingers disappear into that ass again and again, he promised. His uncertain gaze met hooded, covetous eyes and he put as much query in his tone as he could when he uttered “Good?”

The gaze widened into incredulity, swiping between Bucky’s cock and his face, before falling back into desire. Bucky was really hoping he could have this, just this, it was enough, he swears. And then he heard the low “yeah, yes. Good, fuck good, yeah”, and “please, god yes please.”

Bucky almost sighed in relief. Almost. He swiftly gathered back his confidence and stroked his cock with his fist, feeling the wetness trickle from it and slicken his strokes. Putting his unoccupied hand back onto that tempting ass, he pulled it just enough to push his thumb back into that slick wet heat. He was close, but not as close as he could sense this guy was, and he needed a bit of time. So he pulled his thumb out again, teasing the rim beneath it before pushing it in again. And again, fucking that little hole with the pad of his thumb, slowly, torturously. Until he heard a wrecked sob released from below him. He saw the tears seep into his own sheets. Fuck, now those were Bucky’s kind of tears. This fucker was holding back, holding his orgasm at bay with such dedication he was crying. Bucky had to reward that kind of sentiment, didn’t he?

“Just...oh god, just...please” the guy sobbed. Oh how could Bucky ignore such sweet begging too?

He bent forward as his thumb pulled at the rim it had been abusing. And he thrust his tongue deeply into that stretched little hole. Bucky felt the man tense before shuddering and releasing a little sob again. Bucky would fully admit that he didn’t often get to eat ass, but when he did, he liked it wet and soft and deep. He was in heaven and it was more than he could’ve hoped for just a few hours ago. And this guy was taking it perfectly, not protesting or shy, just grinding his ass back onto Bucky’s face and letting out little whimpers with every thrust of his tongue. Bucky played with the rim a little before pulling it wide with his thumb to get his tongue in deeper. Christ, he could feel his own saliva and probably some lube dribbling down his own chin. The sounds he was making were probably obscene, and he would’ve been embarrassed if he weren’t positive the guy on his tongue was loud enough to cover them. Bucky was set to come like this, forcefully stroking his own cock between his legs and tongue fucking the sweet little ass in front of him.

The guy put his head down, fisting his own hair and gasping wetly and unevenly. And then Bucky heard a sharper, sweeter intake of breath and took that to mean the guy was almost there, almost cumming, despite his best efforts to hold off. Bucky tightened his grip on his own cock, thrusting harder into his own fist to come at the same time. He could hear his own strokes over the man's wet breathing with how hard he was abusing his cock. God, but it was good and rough and he was so close, leaking profusely over his fist and onto the sheets.

“Y..your...hnnng...your fucking cock…please, oh god, please now. Right now.”

Bucky arrested every move his body had been making. Had he just. No, he had to have hallucinated that. There was no way this guy could...no. But Bucky’s mind was already supplying him with the image. His thick cock spreading that rosy hole, thrusting deep and hard. Fuck. He could already picture his cum dripping out of it, lose from a good thorough fucking. He was not a strong man. At least not this strong.

He raised his head and shuffled forward on his knees, knowing full well this had a good chance of blowing up in his face...like last time. But his head wasn’t exactly sailing this ship right now. At least not the one with a brain in it. Bucky put both his hands onto that perfect ass again, and separated those pale cheeks, spreading the hole with his thumbs. He was actually doing this. Shit. He placed the fat head of his dick against the winking little hole, almost begging for something to fill it. And then he paused. Could he just...go for it? No, better not. Nudging his dick at the hole in front of it, he asked a breathy little “Good?” again.

_ For fucks sake, Barnes...You’re a man not a god damn pomeranian, pull yourself together. _

“Yes, god. Fuck yes. Good, good, very good.” He didn’t wait for the last good before plunging the head of his dick into the tight little ass, thumbs still holding it wide and open for him.  _ Fuck, slow down, Barnes, before you break the poor thing.  _ And slow down he did. Torturously slowly, inching his way past the rim and into the hot wet heat of it. He wasn’t sure if he was even going to make it through seating his dick all the way in this guy, it had been so long since he’d had his dick wrapped in anything but his own fist. Fuck. It was taking an eternity, but as much as he was going slow for the benefit of the tiny blonde, he was also savoring the feeling, just slow and steady. Inch by inch, until he could feel those tight ass cheeks pressed against his groin. And then he felt that tight rim flutter against his aching cock and christ was this the hardest thing he had ever done in his life. He clenched his hand around that small hip hard enough to bruise. He grunted with the feeling, shit but he hadn’t meant to hurt the tiny thing. He hoped he hadn’t. Bucky stroked his hand up from his hip and across his ribs, trying to sooth and relax the small blonde. He would be okay if this was it. He could just sit here with his dick sheathed in this warm heat for the rest of his life, he was cool with that.

And then he felt that ass pull away from his dick and he almost panicked. Then he felt it slam back against him, taking his dick all at once and he couldn’t help the strangled sound he made at the feeling of his cock sinking into the hot channel so swiftly.  _ Fucking christ, this kids gonna kill me… _

_ Fine,  _ he thought,  _ two can play at that game. _

Bucky clutched tightly at the hips beneath him, pulling his dick out just far enough to keep the head in, and then slamming back in while yanking the small twink bodily towards his cock.  _ Take that,  _ he thought, as he set the pace rough and brutal. He was fucking him with such force that Bucky had to keep pulling him back, harder than each previous thrust. And this kid was rocking it like a champion, letting Bucky fuck him with an animalistic force, giving up all control of his body to Bucky’s strong hands. And Bucky was going to take full advantage. He could hear the poor blonde let out cute little gasps with each brutal thrust. Bucky put one hand between small shoulder blades and shoved them down. How dare he still be up on his elbows while Bucky was fucking him. Bucky watched him turn his head to gain breath and grip the sheets between his tiny fists. Good. He kept his hand pressed between those shoulder blades, just enough to pin him in place and continue with smaller, but equally forceful thrusts. He was beginning to falter, he could feel his own orgasm creeping up on him and could feel the little gasping breaths from the body beneath his hand that let him know he wasn’t alone. But the guy was still holding out. He had to have had some fucking good practice at this. And Bucky knew exactly what he was waiting for. Permission. He was tempted to not give it to him, just to see him fall apart, and maybe even make him beg for forgiveness later. Bucky liked it when he begged oh so sweetly.

But perhaps that was for another time. Bucky was close, but he didn’t let it show when he ordered the man with one smooth command to “come”. And he did, right then. Oh god and wasn’t that the hottest thing Bucky had ever seen. He had never made someone come on command before, but he was high on the feel of it now. The guy couldn’t get air for a moment, and then when he did, all he had to give were the smallest little grunts that punctuated the end of each sharp thrust Bucky could muster. And then he felt that ass clench around him in waves and he was gone, stars forming in his vision. It hit him like a punch to the solar plexus, knocking all the air out of him in a sharp grunt. He could feel his own cum pump into the tight heat, and then somehow find space to dribble out of the stretched hole and down milky white thighs. Fuck. Bucky had never come like this in his life. He gave one last hard thrust with every ounce of his strength and planted his dick as deep as it would go. Yeah, he could stay here for the rest of his life. Quit his job, lock his doors, and fuck this guy over and over, for eternity.

He released his grip on those poor abused hips between his hands, flexing his fingers at his own white knuckled grip. The poor guy just...plopped down onto the mattress, boneless and without heed for the wet spot Bucky knew had to be beneath him. After his dick slid out of that well used hole, Bucky rolled to the side and flopped down onto the mattress.

“Uh...I’m Steve?”

Bucky was so not prepared for this bit. Dammit why couldn’t they guy have like...passed out. That would’ve been a real compliment to Bucky’s ego, he was sure. As it was, he mustered just enough energy to turn his head to the side and lift his eyelids to look back at the blon...Steve. He raised his eyebrows, how was this guy even capable of speech right now? And fuck was he gorgeous too. All big blue eyes and swollen red lips. He must have bit them. Bucky snorted at the thought.  And then those sharp dainty features morphed into almost panic. Shit, Bucky wasn’t laughing at him. Shit shit shit.

“Bucky. I’m Bucky.” He grinned, and then tried to stare up at the ceiling and close his eyes again.

“Uh...nice to meet you…”

Fucking hell, this guy couldn’t take a hint.  _ Just go to sleep, we’ll have awkward after sex chats in the morning...evening. _ Bucky snorted again and found that he couldn’t exactly sleep with his hair in a ponytail, so he pulled it out and put it back around his wrist. His pants were still around his legs, tangling him up, so he kicked out of them and let them fall. He closed his eyes again, and couldn’t help the smile gracing his face.

He could feel...Steve, start to shift next to him, and thought  _ aw hell no. _ Bucky was a bit of a cuddler, sue him. He reached over the side of the bed for the blanket he had discarded the morning previous and threw it over them both in one fell swoop. Then he used his arm to reel Steve in and his thick thigh to hold him in place.

_ There, _ he thought,  _ he’ll keep until evening at least. _

 


	2. Bucky's Big Move

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So in this chapter we get a little...perspective. Bucky's a bit of a mess, but he's pulling it together.

When Bucky comes to, he notices something is very different from his usual morning wake-up. First, he’s curled around a small blond man. He can’t really remember the last time he woke up in the same bed as someone and wasn’t strangling them on the tail end of a nightmare. It’s kind of nice. Second, it isn’t really morning anymore, he can tell from the afternoon sunlight streaming into the room and his near infallible internal clock, courtesy of the United States military. He doesn’t want to get up. He wants to stay right here for the rest of the day, and probably into tomorrow too. And as much as he’s curled around this guy, the dude seems to be more octopus than human at the moment. He’s clutching onto Bucky tightly, his legs are tangled between Bucky’s thick thighs, and his mouth is pressed against Bucky’s collarbone. He’s been alone for so long, but he lets himself imagine that he can have this, just for today.

But he can’t, his stomach growls to let him know just how displeased it is with his recent eating habits, or lack thereof. Bucky very carefully disengages his limbs from their octopus-like prison and pulls on a pair of basketball shorts. He grabs a hoodie without bothering to put it on, and makes his way out of his bedroom. He’s sure to close the door quietly, hoping his guest will sleep awhile longer, at least until he gets breakfast done. And maybe the coffee, too. Slinging the sweatshirt over the back of a chair, he makes his way towards the coffee machine to start a pot. Bucky is almost skipping as he fills the pot with water and pours it into the machine.

He hasn’t had a night like this in an age. He hasn’t had a night like this ever. Feeling like a whole person isn’t a new feeling for him, but it’s one he hasn’t had in a long time. For the first time in what feels like forever, someone looked at him, almost naked, and wanted him. Didn’t seem to care about his scars. And the guy even seemed to really, really like his dick. It’s Bucky’s lucky day. He catches himself whistling as he pulls out a frying pan from under the stove and tosses a slip of butter into it.

Bucky’s not one for bragging, but his mom's french toast recipe hasn’t left any disappointed customers yet, so he figures why the hell not. The click of a door latch lets him know that his guest is awake, and Bucky holds himself back from wandering down the hallway to see what the guy looks like after just waking up. His hair is probably all mussed and he’s probably wearing Bucky’s clothes. If not, he’s naked, because Bucky remembers precisely what he did to everything the poor kid was wearing. The thought of that dainty little body walking into the kitchen in his clothes does weird things to Bucky’s insides. He’s so preoccupied with his thoughts that he forgets to put on the hoodie he brought into the kitchen. Not caring about the mess that is his left arm is one thing in a fit of passion, it’s quite another in the harsh light of day and over a plate of breakfast.

He needn’t have worried, because just as he goes to put the last slice of toast onto the plate next to the stove, the little blond comes barreling down the hallway like he’s on a mission. He flies past the kitchen, and Bucky can only get out a

“Hey, did ya wa-” before he’s cut off abruptly.  
  
“Nope. Uh...gotta…” and then all Bucky can hear is the hard slam of his front door.

Well, not exactly the quiet afternoon of chatting and blushing cuddles Bucky had been expecting. The guy was wearing his clothes though, of that he is certain, and they looked just as good on him as Bucky thought they would. The emptiness he had felt before getting onto the train that morning returns and settles into his heart with a vengeance. Stupid, stupid, stupid, he thinks. How could he have gotten his hopes up? He knows better, he’s learned this lesson the hard way before but he still keeps doing the same shit. He stares down at the plate of french toast in his hand for a moment before he walks over to the trash can and dumps the whole thing into it. Hungry is about the last thing he’s feeling right now, anyway. It’s a good thing he had begged off sick early this morning. Pepper was going to have his hide, but he honestly couldn’t care less right now. He walks over to his hoodie and slips it on, covering his malformity, and goes back into his bedroom to find a glove to put on too.

He catches a glimpse of himself in his bedroom mirror and smiles a little ruefully at his reflection. It’s really no wonder that the kid had practically run away from him screaming. His hair is hanging haphazardly in front of his face, he’s got at least two-day stubble, and even he can still see the awkward angle he’s always holding his arm at. He still hasn’t been able to quite get it to hang normally in the last three years. He pushes the sleeve of his hoodie up to look at his arm. There is little pristine flesh on it, most of it made up of scar tissue, some from the skin grafts and more from the shrapnel that tore through it. The scarring goes all the way past his shoulder. The doctors had told him he was lucky to even still have an arm, let alone one that worked. Most days he doesn’t feel lucky. Some days he wishes he didn’t have this arm. No arm has to be better than a functioning lump of scar tissue, doesn’t it? Other days, he wishes he had just died instead.

Those days were becoming fewer and farther between though, with his new job at Stark Industries and, dare he say it, a new friend in Tony Stark. His life is starting to look up, but standing here, staring at himself in the mirror, it’s hard to see his progress at all. Bucky knows he’s doing well, and he might eventually be happy one day, but days like today make ‘one day’ seem so very far away.

He pulls his sleeve back down and grabs a book from his nightstand. Almost slamming his bedroom door behind him, he slumps towards the living room and falls into the overstuffed bean bag in the middle of the room. It’s the last piece of ‘furniture’ left in the living room after he’s already moved everything else to his new apartment. Except this beanbag and a few things he hasn’t boxed up yet, like his books and clothes, his life has already been moved closer to Stark Tower, courtesy of the one and only Tony Stark. He had tried to move Bucky into the tower itself, but that was happening over his dead body. Bucky tries to focus on the book in his hand, even though he’s already read it twice.

But he can’t seem to get his mind into the book today. This morning, he was shocked, but now that he’s settled, he’s angry. Really angry. Who does that guy think he is, using Bucky like he’s some sort of trash? Sure, he knew people went slumming, and a guy dressed like that probably did it a fair amount, but Bucky had never felt quite this used in his life. And that was saying something considering he’d sold his soul to the government at 18. The worst part isn’t even the feeling of being used, he’s been there before, it’s the sense of rejection he can feel crawling across his skin. He had really tried to be himself, his best self, and the guy couldn’t even look at him the next morning. That hurts. More than he thought it would. Bucky was so sure he was ready to start letting people back into his life, and he had been doing so well, too. And it’s not like he hasn’t had his fair share of one-night stands since his discharge and recovery, but this one hurt more for some reason.

He puts his book down on the floor and rubs his hands over his face in resignation. Clearly reading is not something he’s in the right headspace to be doing today. Despite the afternoon nap he had gotten, Bucky is exhausted. Emotional rollercoasters can take a lot out of a guy. He stands up heavily and shuffles back into his bedroom. Not bothering to even remove his hoodie, he falls face first into his mattress and pulls the thin sheet up around him. He’s asleep before he can think too much more about his shitty day. Maybe tomorrow will be better. It can’t honestly be worse, right?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Bucky wakes up next, it's to utter darkness. He reaches blindly around with his right hand until he hits the lamp on his nightstand. It comes on in a blinding glow, making Bucky groan into his pillow and regret waking up. But he’s up now and he really doesn’t think he could sleep anymore, even if he wanted to. He sits up, the sheet pooling across his thighs, and rubs the sleep from his eyes. The hair tie from yesterday is still sitting on the nightstand, so he plucks it up and ties his hair up messily. Time to continue pretending to be a human being, he thinks. He rolls out of bed, literally, and contemplates just sitting there for awhile, doing nothing. It’s probably around three in the morning and he can’t find the...motivation, to get up off the floor. _Barnes, this is so not how you go out_ , he lectures, as he pulls himself up off his own dirty laundry.

Laundry. Right. He’s moving into his new life, into his new job, into his new apartment. Figuring this is as good a time as any, he starts to sort through the piles, article by article. Dirty. Dirty. Clean. Dirty. Dirty....Questionable. Dirty. He goes on like this, single mindedly sorting his clothes into two piles until that’s all there is. Two piles. _This is much more manageable_ , he thinks. _Stupid Sam and his stupid effective coping mechanisms_ , he thinks less than charitably. Loath as he is to admit it, taking Sam’s advice is actually helpful sometimes, especially when it comes to seemingly overwhelming days like today. Break it down, make it manageable, deal with it one piece at a time. _Well, Sam, you win_ , he thinks, _here I am, one piece at a time_.

He starts stuffing his clean pile into the boxes he’s had stashed in his closet since Tony’s movers had taken everything else. The other pile is stuffed into the various duffle bags Bucky has acquired over the years. It’s not even five yet and he’s already packed his clothes into a neat little stack of boxes and duffles. It feels good, putting everything in neat boxes and seeing it all sitting there. It’s satisfying. It helps. He decides to start on his books next, packing them into the boxes, neater than he packed his clothes and with more care. The mattress stays, along with the nightstand and everything in the kitchen. It was all part of the deal with the sublessee who’s taking over the apartment in the middle of Bucky’s lease. It suits him just fine, it’s not like the apartment Tony has him in would actually, _god forbid,_ be missing anything. Most of the things Bucky has had moved are just stuff he’s comfortable with. He honestly could leave it all and be no worse for it.

By eight, Bucky is done boxing, taping, and labeling everything he owns. The bean bag still sits, like a lone pillar of comfort, in the middle of his sparse living room. Now that he’s done packing, he doesn’t have anything left to do. He hasn’t touched his phone all day, afraid of the ass-chewing he was likely to get from Pepper and avoiding irksome texts from Tony. His bed is calling to him, but his stomach growls louder and he tries to remember the last time he ate. The diner, before the train. Almost a whole 24 hours, get it together Barnes. He wanders back into the kitchen and opens the fridge, staring blankly at its contents. Nothing sounds good but he knows he has to eat. He closes the fridge and turns back to the coffee pot. It’s still on, a little burnt, but hey, so’s he. Pouring a cup and scrunching his nose a little at it, he leans on the counter and looks over the room.

It isn’t much, but it’s been home for awhile. It’s the first apartment he’s gotten himself, ever. He grudgingly acknowledges Sam’s hand in making him get up off his ass and actually start trying to live instead of just survive. There are no walls to separate the living room from the kitchen and the hall is only long enough to reach the bedroom and the small bathroom across from it. The carpet could be newer and the holes in the linoleum are numerous enough to pass as a pattern, but it was home. And today would be his last day in it.

Sam is coming tomorrow for the rest of his shit and probably to trade a few choice insults before going back to pretending they don’t know each other. Sam is the closest thing Bucky has to a friend, he thinks. Tony is...almost his friend, but he’s also his boss now. His weird, neurotic, and broken boss. Everyone else is dead. It’s easier to not make any friends if they’re all just going to go and get themselves blown up anyway.

Bucky shakes his head to clear away the thought. Now is not the time. He can’t really think of a time that is ideal for those thoughts, but he’s sure that now isn’t it. Setting down his half empty cup, he grabs a plum from the bowl on the counter and bites into it as he heads back to his room. Going to take the hair tie out of his hair, his hand touches the greasy remains of the lube he hadn’t bothered to care about before. Fuck. Right. Shower first. He alters his course to the right and hits the light switch in the bathroom. Then he looks at the plum, half-eaten, in his hand, and down to his hoodie. Then back to the plum. Back down to his hoodie. _Uhg_. He proceeds to shove the rest of the plum into his mouth, whole, carefully chewing around the pit. He can feel the juices escape from his mouth and his cheeks stretch around the fruit, but he’ll be damned if he wastes a good plum. Now he has both hands free to pull his sweatshirt over his head and slips his shorts down his hips. He steps out of them, still chewing, and bends over to start the shower. The cold spray hits him square in the back of the head, making him give a very unmanly yelp through a mouthful of meaty fruit. His hair is still dripping cold water onto him while he tries to add some hot water to the arctic ocean currently spilling from above him. _Excellent_.  
  
When he finally gets the right temperature, he steps in and closes his eyes, letting the water pour over him. He finishes his plum and spits the pit in the vague direction of the trashcan by the toilet. _Score: Bucky : 1, Universe : 2,697, and that’s just today_ , he thinks. But the shower does make him feel slightly better about himself. No longer being covered in day-old sweat and lube really does wonders for his outlook on life. When he finally steps out, the steam from the hot water has fogged the mirror and heated the small bathroom up enough that he didn’t really see the need for a towel. Not to mention, Bucky had already packed his towel, so he couldn’t use it even if he wanted to. He picks his clothes up off the floor makes the short jaunt to his bedroom nude. He’s still wet, so he doesn’t want to put his clothes on yet, but he also doesn’t have anything to dry off with. Until he looks at his bed. _Sheets are just really large towels, anyway, right?_

Bucky gracelessly belly flops onto the mattress and proceeds to cocoon himself in his sheets. Sleep usually comes easily to Bucky. It’s staying asleep that’s the problem. He had been taught to fall asleep anywhere, anytime he could. But the nightmares keep him from sleeping too long, two or three hours at most. Staying awake after a nightmare used to be his routine, but he was learning to go back to sleep, usually after a nice hot beverage. Sleeping in the daylight helps. It’s the darkness that brings out the faces of men he’s killed and watched die. Bucky is the only grown man he knows who prefers sleeping with a nightlight.

Strangely, it isn’t a nightmare that wakes him up this time. Well, not the kind that leaves his pulse pounding and his body sweaty.

It’s Sam.

In his bedroom.

He’s breathing heavily, wearing Air Force sweats and an angry disposition. Sam is harshly throwing the blankets off of Bucky and shouting about something or another.

“Stupid, dumbass, useless excuse for a friend I ever heard of. Beds empty! Car gone! Texts unanswered! Do you know how worried I was?!” Sam shouted theatrically, yet somehow still managing to look relieved.  
  
“Okay, okay, calm down there Mrs. Weasley...Wha’ time is it anyway? It can’t be tomorrow already…” Bucky says as he rubs the sleep out of his eyes. He hadn’t gotten dressed after his shower, so now he’s lying naked in his bed, staring up at Sam. Their level of frenemy-ship was about to go up, he thinks as he swings his legs over the edge of the mattress and stands up.

“Oh c’mon man, I don’t need to see that this early in the morning!” Sam says as he covers his eyes with one hand, putting the other on his hip impatiently.

“Really? So would later this afternoon be more convenient for you or…?” Bucky replies with a lewd stare. Sam makes vague gagging noises in response.  
  
“Okay, okay lover boy, that’s enough with the bedroom eyes, put ‘cha pants on and help me with your crap.” As he says it, Sam bends over and picks up two boxes and walks back out of Bucky’s bedroom.

Bucky’s still naked, but he puts on the shorts from yesterday and pulls on his hoodie. He grabs a couple of boxes and heads out to the entryway to slip on his sandals before following Sam out to his Subaru.

It seems like in no time at all everything is stacked neatly into the car and ready to go. Besides the bean bag, that’s shoved haphazardly into the backseat, spilling forward between the front seats and annoying Sam.  
  
“The things I go through for you man, and we aren’t even friends.” Sam says as he pulls away from the curb. “Well, at least you don’t smell as bad as some of my other friends…and you don’t piss on my carpet”  
  
“Contrary to popular belief, I do occasionally behave like a human being. Ya’ know, gotta keep up my cover.” Bucky says sarcastically, settling into the passenger seat and buckling his seatbelt. He goes to reach for the stereo, but Sam’s hand snaps out and slaps his fingers. Bucky pulls his hand back to rub his hand. He looks back at Sam with a pout, sticking his lip out and furrowing his brow cutely.  
  
“Don’t gimme that look, it stopped working on me years ago and you know that….Seriously, stop that. It’s just not fair.” Sam glances from the traffic in front of him to Bucky. “Your music taste is shit and no amount of puppy dog eyes is gonna change that. No matter how cute they are.”

“So you’re just gonna torture me with silence the whole way? Sam, in this traffic that’s gonna be forever!” Bucky whines. He crosses his arms and slumps back into his seat, accepting his lot. Sam loves to torture him, it’s his favorite past time and Bucky knows it. He doesn’t really mind, it feels nice to not be treated like he’s broken glass.

Bucky is almost lulled back into slumber by the time Sam pulls up in front of his new building. It’s a charming little brownstone in Chelsea. Well, little might be understating it a bit.

Tony, not really aware that there was a line, and that buying your new employee a whole building in Manhattan was crossing that line, had convinced Bucky to move. After Bucky had refused a whole fucking floor in Stark tower, Tony had just went and bought a whole building to house him. Saying something about “Chelsea just seems right up your alley and I can have Happy pick you up for work too, so when should I tell the movers to show up at your place? Also, where do you live? Well, where did you used to live, because now you live in the house Pepper got you.” Tony continued on and Bucky just kind of went with it, not knowing what to do and how to say no. And it was mostly Pepper that had handled everything anyway. Although she did keep asking Bucky about throw pillows and if he prefered stainless steel to copper in the kitchen. Bucky always tried to come up with a pressing issue whenever Pepper talked about interior design.

He hadn’t even really seen the inside of it. He was a little scared, too. This wasn’t an apartment, this was a home, someplace people stayed, and built a life in. And Bucky wasn’t really sure he was ready for staying put and building a home instead of just a house. He takes a deep breath and steps out of Sam’s subaru and onto the sidewalk. The stairs are old grey stone and the door bright red with an ornate wrought iron handle. Windows climb all the way up the building, framed by ivy. And all five stories are a soft cream. Overall, not a place Bucky would ever imagine himself entering, let alone living.

Bucky pulls the beanbag out of the backseat with no small amount of effort. Sam is already holding two boxes and waiting for Bucky. He walks up the stairs and opens the door to his new home. And promptly loses his breath. The place was...stunning, like something out of a magazine. He could swear that these floors were marble, real actual marble. The whole place was bright, and new, but Bucky could spot a few of his things, seamlessly integrated into their new lavish surroundings. The old dragonware teaset he had picked up in Japan, his mismatched collection of throw blankets draped over the back of couches and chairs, even his old war posters looked like modern art within Pepper’s design.

Sam steps up behind Bucky and releases a low whistle as he takes in the foyer. A grand staircase rises up in front of them, imposing and made of deep rich mahogany. To the left, through an old plantation style archway is the parlor that bleeds back into a wide livingroom. Bucky doesn’t even know what a parlor is for but he’s willing to take some time to find out. To the right is what he thinks is a formal dining room. The closed pocket doors stop him from seeing any further.

He’s still holding the overstuffed beanbag in his arms and his mouth is open in awe. Snapping his mouth shut, he moves toward the stairs, hoping they lead to a bedroom.

“Oh hell no, I am not carryin’ all your shit up these fancy ass stairs. No way, nuh uh.” Sam says as he eyes the staircase with a little less awe and a bit more contempt.

“What’s that Sam, you’re gonna let a measly little staircase get the best of you? Man, I knew they let you Air Force bros off easy, but damn. A staircase?”

“You know what Barnes, I recognize that you’re baiting me into moving your shit right now, and I’m not gonna fall for it. Nope, not this time. I got nothin’ to prove.”

Bucky looks pointedly down at the sweats Sam is wearing that sport the Air Force insignia and smiles a little smugly to himself.

Sam smiles through a put upon sigh and readjusts his grip on the boxes in his hands. He mumbles under his breath “prepare to be smoked, Army boy,” and he’s off. He takes the stairs two at a time and then there are pounding footsteps not far behind him.

“No fair, Wilson! That’s just cheating!” Bucky yells as he bounds up the stairs after him, shouldering the beanbag awkwardly.

“I dunno Barnes, seems only fair the poor little Air Force boy gets a headstart!” He hears Sam cackle from around a corner.

When Bucky reaches the landing on the fifth floor, Sam is already there and clutching his two boxes for dear life. Bucky can’t say he isn’t a little out of breath but he does everything in his power not to show it. He hefts the beanbag up a little farther onto his shoulder and starts down the hall in front of him, opening the first door on his right. It’s a bathroom. Large and covered in white tile. The accents are teal and consist of a lot of seashells. Sam stares over his shoulder and snorts. Bucky blushes and quickly closes the door.

“What, forget where your own bedroom is?” Sam says with a hint of humor to his voice.

  
“Uhh...I haven’t actually...um, been here before?” Bucky mumbles while staring intently at the beanbag in his arms.

“...What the hell you mean “you haven’t been here before”? Is this your house or what? Boy, if you just got a brother up into some rich white people’s version of Better Homes and Gardens, you are in for a world of hurt if I get outta prison.” Sam mutters, only half serious.

“No, I just...didn’t, I don’t...I don’t really like change? I dunno man, I just didn’t want it to..go away. Before I actually got it, ya know? Like, if they decide I’m really not worth...all this, and I gotta go back to just being...me?” Bucky shuffles his feet awkwardly. Telling Sam exactly what he’s thinking has sort of become second nature, after the counseling and the therapy.

Sam’s eyes soften a little around the edges and Bucky pretends not to notice. “Well, you’re here now, so let’s go find that bedroom before I die of old age up here, man.”

Bucky heads off down the hall again, opening up the only door on the left this time. The bedroom was...something else. Too lavish by far and decked in dark blue and light grey. The furniture is sleek and modern, but still timeless. And he thinks that the door on the far right of the room is an ensuite bathroom. He goes and sets the bean bag down in the corner by the bookshelf and puts his hands on his hips.

Sam sets the boxes down next to the beanbag and adopts the same pose. “Race ya back down?” he says with a smirk.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, this is going to start becoming a companion piece to All Bets are Off. Its just, Bucky's point of view for important bits. Steve's is still gonna be where most of the story telling happens. Otherwise...hope you enjoyed it? Also, thank hearteyesmonroe for STILL putting up with my shit. I'm [ThatOtherFiend](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/thatotherfiend) on tumblr. Find me if you...want, I guess?

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah, there it is. My second ever fic. Hope you enjoyed, ya filthy animals ;)


End file.
